Impossible
by tomatoesonstrings
Summary: Could be just a oneshot, could be a multi-chapter. WE'LL SEE. Review and stuff. Possibly some Eleven/Sherlock, and Johnlock, depending on how the day feels. xx
1. Chapter 1

**New story! How exciting! I have no idea how long this'll be-it might be a oneshot, but then again, it might be a multi-chapter. I'm a creature of whim. **

**I don't own the characters. I just like to watch them dance :D**

* * *

Stars always confused him. He frowns up at the blue-black sky, hundreds, no, _millions_ of diamonds encrusted onto its surface like something from a fairy-tale. A million specks of light. A million things that he cannot understand. He stares back at them, half of his torso out of the window. His mother tells him to get back in before he falls, sending him and his older brother off to bed. They both do as they're told, slipping into their beds. Only one of them falls asleep. The youngest brother waits until he hears his sibling's heavy breathing, before clamouring out of bed to the window.

'I don't understand you.' He whispers. Upon receiving no reply from the wash of deep blue above him, he sighs quietly and settles down on the window-sill, tucking his knees under his chin.

And then he saw the box.

He blinked, raising his head. He quickly runs towards his brother's bedside, shaking him. He is promptly told to go back to sleep. This little boy won't stop until a case like this is solved. He creeps downstairs with his slippers on and a torch in his hand, an old blue scarf which is clearly too big for him wrapped around his neck. He eases the front door open, careful not to wake his parents. Once he reaches the garden, he sees the blue box which fell from the sky a few yards away. He runs towards it to see it half-wedged in the ground. The little boy circles it, reading the lettering across the perimeter of it. Although the box is half-hidden in earth, a hand is still able to push the door open with ease, dragging the soil away from it. The hand places itself on the mound, slowly hoisting itself on the surface of the ground, slowly hoisting itself out, followed by an arm. The little boy steps away, a mixture of horror and excitement on his face, as the owner of the hands head appears. Before too long, the mysterious figure completely emerged, collapsing in front of the boy's feet. The boy shines the torch light over the figures face to see that he's male, in around his twenties. His floppy dark hair covering part of his eyes; he looks as if he was sleeping.

The boy looks down at him, hesitantly. 'Are you okay, sir?' He asks. The man instantly opens his eyes, making the boy jump away. The mystery man stands up quickly.

'Hello.'

The boy looks confused. 'Who are you?'

The man doesn't answer him, turning his attention to the box. 'That's the last time I set the controls to auto-pilot.' He runs his hand over it. 'Poor girl.'

'Where are you from?'

The man spins back round to look at the boy. 'Where are_ you_ from?'

'London.'

'Is that where we are now?'

'Yes sir.'

'What's the date?'

'September the 28th.'

'No, I mean the year.'

'1985.'

The man nods and then sniffs. 'Sorry, what was your name?'

'Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.'

The man grins. 'Good name.'

Sherlock shines the torch over the box, and then back at the older man. 'What's that?'

'My house-machine thing.'

'I saw it fall through the sky.'

'Yeah, it does that.'

Sherlock shakes his head. 'This isn't possible.'

The man's brow furrows. 'How old are you, Sherlock?'

'Nine.'

'That's a bit young to not believe in the impossible.'

Sherlock looks at the ground. 'I don't like things I can't understand.'

'Why?'

'I just don't.'

'Well,' the mystery man kneels in front of him. 'Tell you what I think-impossible makes room for the wonderful.'

'I don't understand.'

'Sometimes you don't need to. Sometimes things are all the more brilliant when you can't explain it.' With that, he stands up and turns back to the box. He produces some sort of thin, golden device from his jacket pocket. He aims it at the box and presses a button on it. Immediately, the box seems to tunnel itself out of the ground at its own accord. Sherlock stares at it in amazement as it stands upright completely. The man smiles back at him. 'Impossible?' He says simply, opening the door of the blue box.

'Wait,' Sherlock says, 'where are you going?'

'Oh, anywhere.'

'…Will I see you again?'

The man pauses. 'I don't know.'

'Please?'

The dark-haired mans smile returns. 'Nice meeting you, Sherlock Holmes.' He says, closing the door. What happens then, Sherlock cannot possibly explain. The blue box slowly begins to fade from existence, a huge roar of engines whirring from it. And then it's gone, with nothing left behind. The boy smiles at the empty space.

'Impossible.' He whispers, staring up at the sky.


	2. Chapter 2

'This bloody case!' Sherlock snarled, standing up from his microscope. John looked up at him, leaning against the kitchens worktop.

'Can I help?' Sherlock ignored him and went for the door, grabbing his coat and scarf. John sighed as Sherlock left in a huff. 'I'll see you later then.'

* * *

_Too many stupid people in the world, grumble, grumble. Too many insignificant, dull minds that aren't needed in the course of the universe, chunter, chunter. Why do so many people live in London anyway? Everything would be so much better if the city was cleared and only people of interest, such as criminals and murderers can stay. And me and John, of course-_

_Ouch._

Sherlock said a quiet apology to the man he'd just walked into, before continuing on.

_Whoa, wait._

There was something about that man which was oddly familiar in some way. He turned back round to see him half-way down the street walking, no, running in the opposite direction. Sherlock suddenly felt his feet starting to run on their own accord. 'Stop!' He called out. He ran after him for what felt like miles. He lost him streets away from his flat. He leaned against a wall, attempting to get his breath back and mask his disappointment. He decided to go a short-cut back to his flat, turning off into an alley-way.

And then he saw the box.

His heart lurched into his throat as he practically stumbled towards it, holding out a shaky hand to touch it. That quiet hum of machinery, that gentle vibration of engines.

'What...' He murmured. He yelped and sprang away when the mystery man stuck his head out of the door.

'Do you mind? Calculating the cause-effect of the space-time continuum takes a lot of effort without someone poking their nose into other people's business!'

Sherlock gaped at him. 'You look the same. You look exactly the same, like you haven't changed at all. That's...that's not possible.' He took a deep breath. 'Sorry. I better...' He turned away and started walked back the way he came.

'Wait.' The man in the box said. Sherlock stopped walking. 'Have we met?'

'...No. You must be mistaking me for someone else.' The detective said quickly.

* * *

John looked at Sherlock as he arrived in their flat once again. 'You were gone a while.' John said. 'You okay?'

Sherlock hesitated, taking off his coat and scarf. 'Yeah.'

'How was your walk?'

'Uneventful.'

And then they heard a crash coming from Sherlocks room.

They looked at each other. 'What was that?' John asked quietly. Before Sherlock could reply, the mystery man dashed into the living-room and gripped his shoulders.

'We_ have_ met! You were the little boy who didn't like impossible things-Sherlock, wasn't it?'

Sherlock stood in silence, not sure as to what to say.

'Who the Hell is this?' John said.

'I'm...not sure.' Sherlock muttered.

'I never introduced myself, did I?' The newcomer stepped back and kissed Sherlock on either side of his face. 'I'm The Doctor.'

Sherlock frowned, pushing him away slightly. 'Can you stop that? Bit weird.'

'Is that not how you greet people here?'

John rubbed a hand across his forehead. 'What's going on?'

Sherlock looked at him. 'A long time ago, this man...fell from the sky in this blue box. It landed in my parents' garden.'

'This is ridiculous, even by your standards.'

'Do you not like impossible things either?' The Doctor asked, turning to John.

'Who are you?'

'Told you-I'm The Doctor.'

'You're a doctor?'

'Yes. Well, no. Are you a doctor?'

'Yes.'

'Ah, that's good. You only need one doctor in one room or things will get confusing.'

'I heard something coming from my room.' Sherlock said.

The Doctor raised both his eyebrows. 'Oh, is that your room? Sorry, I may have parked in it.'

Sherlock opened his mouth slightly, dashing towards his room with the two doctors following.

'What have you done!?' Sherlock gasped, stopping abruptly and making the other two crash into him. The blue box was on its side in the centre of the room, smoke pouring out of the closed door.

The Doctor looked at it sheepishly. 'It does that sometimes.'

'You don't seem to be the best at parking.' Sherlock said.

Johns frowned deepened. 'What's that?'

The Doctor bounded up to the box. 'That, my dear...' he paused, 'sorry, what was your name?'

'John.'

'That, my dear John, is called the TARDIS.' The Doctor leaned up against it, 'but it's not normally this way up.'

'What is it? What's its function?'

'Well, it's a house, sort of. And a transport thing, mainly.'

'How can it travel? It's just a box!'

Sherlock didn't look at John when he spoke. 'It disappears and reappears.'

'This is insane-'

'I saw it.' Sherlock interrupted, looking at him. 'I didn't understand it either, but I saw it fade away in front of me a long time ago.'

The Doctor stepped away from the box, fishing out the golden instrument Sherlock seen him once before. The detective got a strong sense of deja vu when The Doctor aimed the instrument at the TARDIS, which slowly started to pick itself up and, with a loud creak, stood upright in the middle of the room. John stared.

'...That's...'

'Entertaining? I thought so too.' The Doctor replied cheerily, opening the door and stepping inside the TARDIS.

'Wait!' Sherlock said quickly. The Doctor looked back at him. 'What's _in_ there?'


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor started to smile. "Take a look." He stepped aside and opened the door wider. Sherlock and John hesitantly stepped inside and their seemed to pop from their sockets.

Despite the box's slim, small exterior, the space inside stretched out vastly. The gentle whirr of machinery was louder, clearer once inside. The interior wasn't deep blue like its outside; it was dark browns and panels of glass, all copper and gold. At the centre of the room was a huge mis-matched console made up of various bits and pieces which didn't seem to connect to anything.

The Doctor followed them inside, skipped past them, and danced around the console. "Right, you two; anything you have to say?"

Sherlock darted out of the TARDIS, shaking all over. He looked at each side of the box, knocking the side of it with his fist. John heard him say, "but it's made of wood!" The Doctor smiled to himself and leaned against the console whilst Sherlock continued, "I don't understand; this box's diameter is of a smaller diameter than its interior which..." He ran back into the TARDIS. "This isn't possible!"

"You say that a lot, don't you?" The Doctor replied, flicking various unlabelled switches attached to the console. "And, since I kind of owe it to you for landing in your garden and crashing into your room," he looked over at Sherlock, "I was thinking you might like a trip. With John, of course."

Sherlock and John looked at each other, and then at The Doctor.

"I'm sorry?" John asked.

"Trip. In the TARDIS. Yes? No?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. "Where?"

"Anywhere, everywhere. Anytime, anyplace."

"I...what?"

"I'll take that as a yes." The Doctor threw down one of the largest switches and the whole room shook. Sherlock and John were thrown forward, gripping onto the railings.

"What the Hell?" Sherlock cried out.

The Doctor laughed. "Bye-bye, 2012!" The TARDIS started screaming and groaning loudly, a hundred different coloured lights flashing on and off. John managed to hoist himself up, stumbling nearer the detective.

"You okay?"

Sherlock nodded. "I'm...I'm fine."

The box stopped shaking as abruptly as it started. The Doctor stepped away from the console and skipped past the two newcomers. Before he opened the door, he looked back at them. "New world on the side of these doors." He opened it and stepped out with Sherlock and John following.

As soon as they stepped out of the TARDIS, Sherlock and John stopped completely dead in their tracks.

"Oh God." John said in a small voice.

The fog hit them when they both shook their heads in disbelief as they looked at the throng of tailcoats, huge dresses, corsets, waistcoats, top-hats. A young boy with scruffy clothes called out from the side of the cobblestone road for spare change. Women in petticoats and heeled boots were linked arms with tall men in dress-shirts, chatting about everything and nothing. A young woman in a sleeveless dress smiled coyly at passing men, talking in hushed voices.

The Doctor stepped in front of them. "London, England." He glanced at his watch. "I'd say the date's October 1895-ish."

Sherlocks eyes darted towards every detail. "No, that's..." He looked at The Doctor. "This isn't real!"

"I think you'll find that it is." The Doctor replied, shutting the TARDIS door.

"It can't be!"

"Look around you. This is a thing that's happening."

Sherlock looked at John and then back at The Doctor. "How did we get here?"

"If I told you that then your head would explode. Now go enjoy yourselves!" The Doctor wandered into the crowds. Sherlock and John staggered after him.

"Are we stuck here forever?" John asked.

"Of course not. You can go home whenever-" The Doctor spun round to look at them up and down. "Ah."

"What?"

The Doctor continued walking ahead of them. "First port of call is to get you two new clothes. You're not exactly blending in."

"I look ridiculous." Sherlock complained.

John sighed at him. "It is quite a lot of tweed."

The Doctor shook his head. "Nonsense. You look great."

Sherlock tugged at his tweed cape uselessly. "And the hat is stupid. This is the hat that plagues me all the time." He gestured towards the deerstalker on his head. "How come John gets to wear something ordinary and I'm not?"

John shrugged at him. "I wouldn't call this ordinary. I would never wear a cravat like this."

"I hate everything."

John laughed. "Cheer up! It could be worse!"

Sherlock glared at The Doctor. "And why aren't you getting changed?"

"I don't need to- no one seems to bother about what I wear."

"Of course not," John said, "you'll fit right in with that stupid bow-tie."

"Hey!" The Doctor adjusted said item of clothing. "Bow-ties are cool."

Sherlock frowned at him. "What does that even..."He shook his head. "Never mind."

The Doctor shrugged. "Can we stop shopping now?"

John fiddled with his lapels. "Yes, alright. Geez, how old are you?"

"One thousand and ninety-eight. Let's go." He paid quickly...somehow and left the shop. The other two followed quickly.

"You're over a thousand years old?!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"Yes. Problem?"

Sherlock blinked at him. "No, just...you look good."

The Doctor grinned. "Cheers." He continued on walking out into the street. After a while, Sherlock started biting his nails, breathing deeply.

John looked at him. "You okay?"

"I don't have any nicotine patches on me."

"Ah. You desperate?"

"Slightly."

The Doctor tugged on the detective's sleeve, directing him into a tobacconists'. He handed him a few wads of old, Victorian money and the two doctors waited outside the shop for him.

And then they heard a scream.

And then they heard a gunshot.

And then the tobacconists' exploded.


End file.
